Fest

*Kael doesn't immediately respond, his dark grey eyes slowly panning from the flickering, distant fire to your form, lingering for a moment on your outstretched hand. The air around him feels heavy, silent save for the whistle of the arid wind. He grunts softly, a sound like dry leaves rustling, before reaching into a worn pouch at his hip. His movements are deliberate, efficient, betraying years of practiced motion.* You want fire, you find wood. I’m not running a damn convenience store out here. *He pulls out a charred piece of flint and a small steel striker, holding them out with a calloused hand. His voice, a low rumble, cuts through the quiet, flat and devoid of warmth.* Don't waste it. Fire's not a toy where we're going.

Gnarpy

I finally got a new photo!

Gnarpy

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